


How to get a date with a billionaire

by journeythroughtherain



Series: Bucky's bodyguard adventures [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Attempted Kidnapping, M/M, Weirdly flavored ice cream, accidental innuendos, bucky to the rescue, single parent tony stark, though Bucky still has his arm and Tony is still Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-29 04:52:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16257041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/journeythroughtherain/pseuds/journeythroughtherain
Summary: Bucky Barnes is doing his best to get used to civilian life after a mission gone wrong ended his military career, until he has to throw away his comfortable daily routine when he spots an abduction taking place right in front of him.Kidnapping kids? Not on his watch.





	1. Be at the right place, at the right time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have another story about abductions while I do my best to finish the sequel to AMIA. At least Bucky isn't the kidnapper this time...?
> 
> Note: Harley is a bit younger than he is in the movies (I think?), as he's eight in this.
> 
> Also, thank you, AndroidTwin, for helping me out with the coffee!

Bucky'd had a perfectly normal, boring afternoon, though admittedly on the more miserable side of the scale, until the kid got kidnapped right in front of him.

He'd been out on his walk, same as always. Down his street, through the tiny park that had somehow gotten shoehorned into the midst of the city, to his favorite non-chain coffee shop—all within a few minutes walk of his apartment. He'd bought his usual—with an extra pastry on the side because of his mood—and walked outside, looking forward to sitting down at his usual bench in the park to people watch for a bit while enjoying his steaming cup of caffeinated love.

The same caffeinated love that was now decorating the sidewalk where he'd flung it away in his haste to follow the car he'd just witnessed someone stuffing a struggling, yelling kid inside.

Acting on instinct, he ran towards the black van, but it screeched off down the street before he could reach it. Cursing himself, he noted the plates before turning around and hightailing it back to his place to get his bike, all while calculating which route the car would have to take from the shop, and where to cut them off.

Soon enough he'd taken to the streets, bike roaring beneath him, breaking more than one traffic law on the way. Being Bucky's neighborhood, it didn't take him long to catch a glimpse of the van. Now it was only a matter of tailing it to its location without being seen.

It wasn't exactly this kind of training he'd gotten during his stint in the army, but he knew enough of the theory. He was fairly confident he wouldn't get spotted, at least.

Driving his bike again, weaving effortlessly through the traffic, he couldn't help but marvel at his left arm. The ingenuity and innovative tech of his prosthetic was the only reason he could even drive again after the fuck up that was his last mission. Not only because having two arms was kind of essential to handling a bike, but also because it had helped enormously in his recovery. Bucky had no doubt he eventually would’ve gotten to the point he was today even without the help of the limb, but it had certainly sped up the process.

When he saw the kidnapper's car stop outside an abandoned warehouse, he parked his bike in an alley close by and snuck out to do a quick recon of the building.

He'd seen at least two men when they'd taken the kid, and the driver made three. Sneaking in a backdoor he crept through the dusty crates that littered the warehouse, the labels too faded for him to read what was stored inside. It didn’t take him long to find a vantage point that let him see most of the main floor, where they had brought their prize.

He spotted the two he'd already seen, and three more (one man, two women, Bucky noted) standing in a half circle watching a sixth figure that was trying to tie down the kid to a chair—and failing, by the sound of his laughing companions.

Bucky took advantage of the distraction to do a quick sweep of the rest of the floor. Apparently these six were all of the kidnappers. _'Idiots didn't even put out a watch,'_ Bucky scoffed to himself. As far as he could see, only half of them had firearms, the rest probably armed with small blades or even nothing at all.

While planning his approach, he couldn't help but admire the guts of the kid, who was still yelling and cursing out his kidnappers even while being restrained. Bucky wondered for a moment where he'd picked up that kind of language (some of the swears were hilariously creative), all while praying the armed men around him would keep finding it funny instead of annoying. Who knew what they'd do to the kid if they decided to shut him up. Bucky wasn't planning on finding out.

Doubling back to where he'd come in, he opened the door again, but this time he made sure it made a sound. He could hear one of the kidnappers silencing the others, listening, before he commanded two of his companions to check out the noise. Bucky waited until they passed the crates he was hiding behind, before he quickly and quietly took them out and confiscated their weapons. He hid their unconscious bodies in an empty crate, using their own shoelaces to tie them down in case they woke up too soon.

Two down, four to go.

Not wanting to move the fight out in front of the kid, he waited until the rest of the kidnappers got antsy enough to go search for their missing partners. This time Bucky went up against three of them, and he was unable to keep the noise down as he fought them off. Ridding them of their weapons, he stashed them away with the others before making his way out to the main part of the floor.

The kid had quieted down, having caught on that something was going on. Bucky was grateful; the remaining woman looked nervous enough that he feared she'd pull her trigger at the smallest sound. Since the gun was still loosely pointed at the kid, Bucky found he didn't particularly want to provoke her.

Holding one confiscated gun he raised his hands above his head in a gesture of surrender, before walking out from behind the crates. The woman's head snapped towards him, her gun soon following, and Bucky froze his movement a short distance away.

"Who are you? What did you do to the others? Who else is here?" She asked, her voice edging panic. Knowing he had to keep the situation from escalating, to keep her from shooting either him or the kid, Bucky kept his voice calm.

"Your friends are alive, and I'm alone," Bucky told her, watching her movements intently. "I'm just here for the kid. Let him go, and I'll take him and leave."

Her eyes flicked rapidly from Bucky, to the kid, to where her companions had disappeared, and back again.

"Get down, put down the gun. I don't know what you did to the others, but there's no way you're leaving with our golden egg, here. I'm not giving up this kind of money to someone like you." She trained her gun on Bucky, steadier now than she'd been before, as he slowly went down on one knee, laying the gun in front of him with his left hand.

Conveniently concealing the movement of his right as he slipped one of the stolen knives from his boot.

He slid the gun over to the kidnapper, and as she bent down to pick it up he acted. Quick as a snake he struck, the knife he threw burying itself deep in her shoulder, making her lose her grip on her gun.

Bucky followed up as she was distracted by the pain, a single punch enough to take her out.

After securing her and tying up her wound, he shifted his attention to the kid to only to find him staring at Bucky with eyes filled with... Admiration? 

_‘What...?’_

"That was SO cool! I thought you were going to be lame and give up and let her go and then you were on the floor but you had a knife and then you THREW it, like _wow_ , and then BAM with the punch and that was _so awesome_!"

The kid spoke too fast for Bucky to follow everything, but he got the gist.

"... Uh, right. I'm going to untie you now, and we'll see about getting you home, alright?"

Before Bucky could move to untie him, the kid jumped down from the chair, shaking loose his hands. He grinned up at Bucky's bemused expression.

"My dad taught me how to get out of ropes and zip-ties and stuff ages ago, so I could get away if someone tried to take me. He also said to not make kidnappers mad and do as they say and he would fix it and come get me, but they were so stupid I couldn't _help_ it."

Bucky wondered what kind of man the kid's dad was, to prepare his kid for this exact situation. Had it happened before, or was he just crazy paranoid and well prepared? Could Bucky even call him paranoid when a kidnapping had actually happened?

"Well, kid, if this ever happens again I hope you'll listen to your dad's advice. You never know when their patience might run out, and people that are capable of snatching kids from the street in broad daylight are usually capable of more. They might've hurt you real bad if they hadn't been busy laughing."

The kid looked away, pouting. "Yeah, well, they didn't. And my name is Harley, not “kid”."

Bucky grinned and stuck out his left hand for Harley to shake, as his right was kind of covered in blood from the kidnapper still unconscious on the floor.

"Harley, then. My name's Bucky. What do you say we get out of here and find your dad? He's probably a lot worried about you, by now."

Harley narrowed his eyes at him.

"How do I know you're not a kidnapper as well? Did my dad send you? How did you find me?" He asked, trying to sound accusing, but unable to cover up the slight tremble in his voice. Bucky crouched down before him, hoping to make himself less intimidating and scary.

"Well, the thing is, your dad didn't send me. Not exactly. But I _am_ here to get you back to him, though I'm probably going to need your help for that." Bucky scratched the back of his head, "And as for how I found you... Well, I saw it when they grabbed you, and I couldn't stand there and do nothing. So I followed. And they led me here. Then I took them out, as you know, and now I guess I should take you back to my bike so we can find our way back."

Harley's eyes widened, "You have a bike? Like in motorbike? That's _so cool_ — I mean, that's nice. I guess. I'm not sure if I should follow you."

Bucky sighed. He'd be proud of the kid for being suspicious of a stranger, if it wasn't really working against him right now.

"Well, I would call the police from here, but I don't have my cellphone with me right now."

Actually, he hadn't had his phone on him for a couple of days. He should probably check it soon, in case Steve had tried to contact him. The guy was prone to worrying when he wasn't able to get a hold of Bucky, no matter that he knew Bucky preferred to leave his phone at home most days.

"Look," Bucky said after a bit, reaching down to pull out the other knife he'd taken, this one a switchblade, "how about this. I'll give you this knife, and then if you think I'm going to try something you can stab me and run. Sounds fair?"

Harley stared suspiciously at him for a moment before reaching out for the knife. "Deal."

"Deal." Bucky agreed. They shook on it, which lead Harley to ask why Bucky's hand felt weird, which in turn made the trip back to the bike filled with an entirely one sided conversation about his prosthetic arm when Harley wouldn't stop babbling about it, delighted by it's abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts? Let me know! 
> 
> (And if you spot any mistakes, I'd love to get a chance to correct them!)


	2. Make connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Harley talk some more, and we have our reunion.

Since he didn't have an extra helmet that would fit the kid, Bucky decided to walk the bike along, Harley perched in the seat and touching everything.

Leading them to the nearest subway station, Bucky parked the bike and prayed it wouldn't get stolen before he could come back and pick it up. He let Harley examine the subway map and choose which line to take while Bucky bought them passes. Double checking let him know the line would lead them through his own neighborhood, so Harley had most likely been taken close to home. Considering the time of day he might have been on his way home from school.

They had some minutes to spare before their ride arrived, so Bucky took the opportunity to find a sink to clean himself up a bit. He grimaced as he tried to wash the blood off his leather gloves. It would probably stain, and he'd have to get a new pair. Damn it. He had to put the thought aside for now, though; their train had arrived.

Settling down in the train car, Bucky noticed Harley had gone suspiciously quiet. He looked a bit morose, Bucky thought, too much for someone on his way home safely from a kidnapping. Especially for someone like Harley, who minutes before couldn't shut up about Bucky's bike or his prosthetic arm being “the awesomest _ever_ ”.

"Hey, kid. What's got you so glum? Aren't you looking forward to seeing your dad again?"

Harley looked down into his lap, fingers fiddling with a loose thread in his jeans.

"Bucky... Do you— do you think my dad is gonna be mad at me?" He mumbled, daring a quick glimpse up at Bucky before returning his attention to his hands. "He's always told me to be careful and I promised I'd always wait for the car and not go back home alone even though it's not that far, but I'm eight years old now, and I know the way back so I thought it would be okay.

"And it was okay, but then I saw the park and I hadn't seen it before so I wanted to check it out but then I heard someone walking up behind me and they— they grabbed me, and shoved me to a car, and I tried to make lots of noise so someone would notice but no one did and I was—"

Harley stopped his rambling to take a breath, and when he continued, his voice was small, nearly a whisper.

"I was so scared."

Bucky could see he was just about crying by now, and panicked a bit inside. He was way out of practice at being comforting; for the longest time lately, _he_ had been the one to recieve comfort, and he wasn't particularly good at that either. But now the kid was on the verge of tears and Bucky had to do _something_. He crouched down in front of Harley and pretended not to notice as he quickly wiped his face dry with his hand.

"Hey kid. Hey. Listen to me, Harley. You did good. You say no one noticed, but _I_ did. And I came for you. And you're safe now, and we're going to find your dad, and he's going to be so, so happy to see you're okay he won't even think about getting mad, alright? And then I bet he'll be so happy he'll even take you for ice cream if you want to, after. Say, what's your favorite ice cream flavor?"

Harley sniffled a bit, voice still shaky as he answered.

"Cookie dough, and strawberry. Dad always lets me get two scoops 'cus he _has_ to have two different tastes himself. And it wouldn't be fair if he got two and I didn't."

Bucky had to smile at that.

"See, Harley, your dad is a fair man. He'll understand. Nothing of what happened was your fault. You've been really brave, kid. It'll be okay."

The rest of the ride was silent until Bucky managed to coax Harley into an argument over who was the better ex-Robin. Harley was a fan of Nightwing; Bucky had a weird soft spot for Jason Todd that he couldn't quite explain. Harley told him he was just as boring as his dad, who apparently shared Bucky's fondness for the Red Hood.

When they left at their stop, Bucky gave himself a mental pat on the back at Harley's no longer tense body language. Harley led them up and through the streets, proving he hadn't lied when he said he knew his way home. This time, though, Bucky had his back. _No one_ would take Harley again on his watch.

Soon they arrived at the foot of a towering building. Bucky could see a group of people, most of them cops or suit clad private security, mingling in the lobby just inside the glass doors. When they opened, he could hear one of the better dressed suit clad men talking frantically on a phone while pacing back and forth.

"—they won't do anything, Pepper, and I'm not sure how much more I can take— yes, I've done that. They keep saying I should just wait for the kidnappers to make their demands, as if I can just sit here and do nothing when _my son has been taken!_ "

The rest of the people was giving him a wide berth, some stealing nervous glances at the yelling man in their midst.

"Dad!"

Harley was gone from Bucky's side before he could even blink. He watched as the pacing man stopped, and at the sight of Harley rushing to him, dropped to his knees and opened his arms to welcome back his son.

Then they were hugging, and Bucky felt something settle in himself at the sight. His job was done; Harley was safely back home.

He waved down a police officer and gave his statement about where he'd found Harley, and advised them to send an ambulance as at least one of the kidnappers would need medical attention. Granted, he had left the knife in so she wouldn't bleed out at once, but his provisory bindings wouldn't last much longer.

Turning back one last time, he could see Harley talking excitedly at his dad, who was listening intently and nodding at what he had to say. Smiling to himself, Bucky turned to walk out.

He didn't get more than halfway to the door before he heard a shout behind him.

"Hey! Hey you! Wait just a minute!"

Bucky looked back only to see Harley's dad marching determinedly in his direction.

His gaze was locked on Bucky, and the look in his eyes was so intense that Bucky almost began cataloguing escape routes from the building.

"Uh."

The man stopped in front of him, eyes seeming to soften at Bucky's stricken expression.

"Hey. Sorry about that, I just didn't want you to leave before I could thank you. Harley here," he ruffled the boy's head as he caught up to his father, "says you were the one that saved him from the kidnappers. Now, normally I'd be very suspicious of an act of goodwill like this — it's more likely that someone would arrange a kidnapping and then "rescue" my kid to claim a reward — but seeing as there was no reward out for anything yet, and because you just now tried to sneak off without even giving me your name, which is kind of rude, by the way, I'm inclined to believe your intentions to be pure."

Bucky couldn't do anything but stare as the man talked; at least now he knew where Harley got his tendency to ramble.

The rambling gave him an opportunity to study the man up close, though. A couple of inches shorter han Bucky himself, he looked stupidly handsome in his fitted suit, despite the traces of exhaustion from the earlier stress. Bucky found himself mesmerized by the man's eyes. Now that he didn't look like he was capable of burning Bucky alive with his gaze, he could see they were actually kind of endearingly big. And pretty.

_'Huh.'_

"So, how about it. Want to give me your name so I can properly show my appreciation for what you've done?"

Bucky snapped out of his reverie, embarrassed to get caught getting lost in the other man's eyes, and stuck out his hand.

"I'm James Barnes, though I usually go by Bucky."

"Bucky, huh?" The man smirked, taking his hand. "I'm Tony Stark. Thank you, Bucky, for saving my son."

"Nice to meet you." Bucky said, before the words caught up to him. "Wait, you're Tony Stark? _The_ Tony Stark?"

He felt his jaw drop and couldn't do anything but stare at the man — Stark, Tony Stark, _holy shit_ — and he must have looked ridiculous because both Stark and Harley burst out laughing at the sight.

Damn. If Harley was the son of Tony Stark, no wonder someone had tried to kidnap him. The ransom they could've demanded would've been enormous. Stark was the most loaded guy in town, hell, maybe even in the country. He thought about what Harley had said about his dad teaching him how to get out of zip-ties, and how Stark must have feared something like this would happen. Maybe he'd even experienced it himself.

Watching the two of them now, laughing happily, the thought made him sad.

He pulled himself together and mustered a smile at the two.

"It was nice to meet you, Mr. Stark, Harley, but I need to go." He gave them an apologetic shrug. "Left my bike back there, so I need to go get it before someone else does."

He didn't wait for an answer before drawing away, feeling a strange mix of uncomfortable, intruding, and like he wanted nothing more to stay there and laugh with them.

"Bucky, wait!"

This time, it was Harley who'd stopped him.

"Bucky, you said my dad would take me to get ice cream, can you come too? Please?"

"Uh, I'm not sure—"

Harley turned to Stark and gave him the most impressive puppy dog eyes Bucky had seen since Steve was in fourth grade and tried to convince their teacher, Ms. Coleman, that they should switch their classroom guinea pig for a tarantula.

(It had been an interesting month— she'd politely refused, and then Steve had tried to smuggle in a box of self-caught spiders anyway, caring for them as best he could in secret. Needless to say she had _not_ been happy when she'd stumbled over the growing spider colony in the supply closet. Neither had the rest of the class when the stumble accidentally released the several dozen spiders to scatter all around the classroom floor.)

"Dad, Bucky can come, right? He can have ice cream with us, and he can tell you all about what happened, and dad, he was so cool! And he has a robotic arm, like the ones you make!"

Bucky's smile faltered as he grabbed his left arm self-consciously. He knew his arm came from Stark Industries, and that he had been one of few who qualified for the procedure, but he hadn't known it was Stark himself who had made it. Maybe Harley was talking about some other prosthetics?

"An arm like those I make, you say? Hmm."

He studied Bucky for a moment, and Bucky felt himself flush red at the scrutiny.

"You know, if he's right, that makes you very special indeed. There aren't many people who were granted a prosthetic from that line; those who did had performed above and beyond in service and were highly regarded. Handcrafted them myself, customized to fit everyone perfectly based on their individual measurements. May I?"

He held out a hand, but didn't move closer, leaving it entirely up to Bucky whether or not he wanted to take it. After a short deliberation, he took off his leather gloves and pushed up his sleeve a bit on his left side.

Stark took the offered hand gently, and began examining it right there in the lobby, mumbling to himself and occasionally asking Bucky to flex or curl his fingers. Bucky shivered at the gentle caresses to his arm; the sensors were sensitive enough to pick up both heat and textures, and quite a lot of the artificial nerves were concentrated in his hand and fingers. Stark touching it felt like him touching his flesh arm, if anything.

Beside them, Harley was almost vibrating with excitement. Bucky could tell he wanted to touch and explore the arm again, so he gave the kid a nod to let him know is was okay.

He felt a little weird standing there in the lobby of what he realized must be Stark Tower, father and son both enthusiastically (though son more than father, to be fair) exploring his prosthesis. Oh well. He'd handled worse.

"You've kept it in quite good shape, good to know maintenance isn't too hard to keep up with. If it's okay with you, though, maybe I could give it a quick check up, just in case? After ice cream, perhaps?"

And then it was Stark's turn to crank out the old puppy eyes, except his was more like a baby doe's, huge, expressive, and honey brown. Bucky felt himself waver.

"Pleeeaaase, Bucky?" Harley added.

Under the combined power of both of their stares, Bucky was helpless to do anything but give in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts? Favorite lines? Let me know!


	3. Take the offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, there's ice cream!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun researching ice cream flavors, can you tell?

Going for ice cream with Tony Stark and his eight year old son was nothing like Bucky expected. Not that he'd ever imagined this would happen to him, but still.

Having cleared everything with the police officers and Stark's security personnel (one of whom had been tasked with the retrieval of Bucky's bike), Bucky was herded to the garage and ushered into a car that likely cost more than Bucky had made in all his years in the army. With Stark behind the wheel, Bucky riding shotgun and Harley in the back, they weaved through traffic to the sound of old school rock. Stark had a surprisingly good singing voice, Bucky noticed, even if he couldn't reach all the high notes. Harley was too busy talking and asking Bucky questions to sing. The kid's curiosity was bottomless.

By the time Stark pulled over, Harley had managed to get Bucky to share what felt like his entire life story, though he'd tried to keep it mostly to his childhood and steered away from his time in the special forces. Thank god for Steve and all the trouble he used to get them into (used to, hah, as if he didn't still drag both him and Sam into his messes); the stories made for great distractions.

It was weird, talking so much. Anyone in his tiny circle of friends would point to Bucky as the silent one — while his contributions to conversations were usually well thought out and on point, he didn't share his input often and preferred to observe. Now, his mouth felt dry from talking and yet—he didn't feel the need to stop. Talking to the Starks was refreshingly easy, and Bucky felt almost giddy at Harley's enraptured expression.

Even then, nothing beat the feeling of hearing Stark laugh at his stories, bright and joyful. It made Bucky squirm a bit in his seat, and he desperately hoped Harley wouldn't see him blush at the sound (and damn Steve for making him aware of the fact his blush reached his ears). He didn't want the kid to get the wrong idea. Not that there was an idea to get, that would be stupid. Stark was just interesting, was all. And well, a bit like Bucky's type perhaps. A little bit. Maybe a lot.

Shoving the thought away, he exited the car and followed the Starks. The short walk was more subdued; apparently Harley had worn himself out with the conversation in the car. That, Bucky thought, or the aftereffect of today's ordeal had finally begun to set in.

As they neared the front of the ice cream parlor, though, he perked up again. Grabbing Bucky's hand he all but dragged him along, eager to get in as quickly as possible. Stumbling along in surprise, Bucky was sure he heard snickers from behind, but when he looked back over his shoulder, Stark was ambling along, hands in pockets and face schooled in an innocent expression.

 _Too_ innocent. Bucky narrowed his eyes and was about to comment, but just then Harley managed to get them both through the door, and he got distracted.

The parlor could only be described as small, and though he rarely used the word, _quaint_. Less extravagant than he'd imagined a billionaire going for when buying _anything_ , even ice cream. There wasn't many people inside — a mother and her son in one corner, a young couple by the window — but he supposed most people would buy to go. Stark looked ridiculously out of place in his fancy suit, but he remained unphased as he strode towards the counter.

The counter that contained the biggest selection of ice cream flavors Bucky had ever seen.

"Holy sh-!"

He stopped himself, remembering Harley, but couldn't help but drift to the counter, mesmerized by the sheer amount of colors and tastes. It had to be over five dozen flavors, sorted by increasingly exotic combinations the farther away from the register they got.

Bucky tuned out Stark enthusiastically greeting the man behind the till (the owner, it seemed, and he apparently knew Stark quite well) in favor of scoping out the ice cream.

"Chocolate, cookie dough, lemon sorbet, green tea?" Bucky wrinkled his nose. Harley snuck up beside him to try and spot the offensive ice cream, and snorted.

"That's like, the least weird stuff here. You should see the ones at the other end!" Harley pushed at him to get him to move, but Bucky stood his ground until Harley gave up and huffed away, grumbling. Bucky smirked to himself and resumed walking along the counter at his own pace. Some of the flavor he was used to; the traditional vanilla, strawberry and pistachio were all there; others were unfamiliar, but still sensible (white chocolate, peanut butter), and then begun the weird ones.

"Wasabi? Mozzarella? _Pine needles_? Who comes up with these...?" He stopped at yet another novel flavor, "What the hell is buckthorn?"

"Sea buckthorn berries, actually. Very healthy, twice the vitamin C of an orange. The sorbet itself is quite sweet, but the berries add a bit of a bite."

Bucky startled at Stark's voice and whirled around only to find him standing not two feet away.

"Mr. Stark—"

Stark tutted, cutting him off. "No need for the Mr. Stark, you're making me feel old. Call me Tony, please."

"Right, um... Tony."

Stark— no, _Tony_ , and that would take some time to get used to, gave him a devilish smile.

" _James_."

Damn his blush. Bucky could almost feel himself heating up at Tony's tone.

"Have you figured out what you want, yet?"

 _'You,'_ Bucky almost blurted out, and where the hell did that come from? Sure, Tony was handsome, and charming, and kind, and lots of other things that Bucky had noticed, but he'd only met the man today. Not even an hour ago. That was just not appropriate. _'Get a hold of yourself, Buck.'_

He cleared his throat so he could answer. "Haven't seen all of them yet, but I'm kind of afraid of what I'll find if I go on."

Tony laughed again, then herded him on with a hand hovering over Bucky's lower back, almost touching. Bucky caught himself before he leaned back into it.

"Let's see what we've got here, shall we? Raspberry cheesecake, a classic. An assortment of fruity sorbets over there, if that's your thing. Cloudberry I can recommend, the recipe is the best I've ever had. Don't mistake the coconut coal for black licorice - that is not an experience I'd recommend."

Bucky stared in horror at some of the "exotic" choices. "Smoked salmon? Someone put fish in ice cream?"

"Yup. It's... Certainly different. I've promised Antonio there," Tony waved at the owner, "that as his namesake and family friend I'd try every combination of flavors at least once. I've managed to avoid the herring so far, but I’m afraid I'm running out of flavors to pick instead."

Bucky blanched at the thought. Some foods should absolutely never be mixed with desserts.

Though maybe he'd manage to trick Sam into trying some, if he planned it carefully. Hmm. He'd have to think about it later. Tony had asked him a question, hadn't he?

"Well, I'm not usually a vanilla kind of guy — I kind of like to experiment with new stuff — but I think I'll stick to the more conventional flavors this time."

He thought he felt Tony's hand twitch against his back, but when he looked over, Tony was looking at Harley, who'd claimed a table in the back.

"Yes— well. I'll just..." Tony waved a hand in Harley's direction "Tell me what you'd like, and I'll bring it over to you guys. Think you have room for three scoops?"

Bucky gave him a mischievous smile. "I could probably fit in four or five if we've got time." He wiggled his fingers to reflect the number. "I've got lots of practice," he shared, thinking of all the times he'd spent sympathy eating tubs of ice cream with Steve whenever his friend had gotten his heart broken. It had been a while since last time, though, and Bucky was keeping his fingers crossed his newest flame would last. Bucky’s waistline would suffer otherwise.

Tony made a strangled sort of noise and Bucky glanced up at him, but he'd covered his face with a hand, hiding his expression.

"James, you... Okay, nevermind, moving on. What's your pick?"

Bucky considered it for a moment, before shrugging and pointing at the cactus sorbet.

"You pick for me. Nothing past this one—" he instructed, eyeing the neighboring bacon ice cream suspiciously, "—and I like fruits and chocolate, except white chocolate. You're the one with experience; I trust you'll make this good for me."

Bucky watched as Tony slowly dragged the hand down his face before fixing Bucky with an incredulous look. "I can't even tell if you're doing it on purpose or not anymore."

"What?"

"Nothing. Anyway, time to move along, Harley's waiting, and he can be a little devil when it comes to desserts."

Before he could go, however, he felt a hand on his arm gently holding him back. Tony waited until Bucky met his eyes before speaking.

"And James... Thank you, again. For agreeing to this. For saving Harley. For showing him that for every stranger that might harm him, there are some who would step up and do the right thing. I'd hate it if what happened is going to make him distrust people as a whole, because that is one hell of a lonely way to live— so thank you, for everything. It gives us both hope."

With that, he gave Bucky's arm a little pat before sauntering over to the register to place their orders. Bucky walked towards Harley's table, still feeling flustered and a bit off-kilter from Tony's extensive thanks.

The rest of their meal (if one could call three giant scoops of ice cream a meal) went by fast. Tony had gotten Bucky a bowl with four flavors, which Harley protested before Tony convinced him it was part of Bucky's reward for his heroics.

The cloudberry was as good as Tony claimed it would be, though the cactus lime concoction found it's way over into Tony's bowl after Bucky took the first bite. He reluctantly shared his lemon-raspberry sorbet with Harley, but hoarded the dark chocolate for himself as much as was possible, considering he was surrounded by devious ice cream thieves. Tony and Harley both turned out to be admirable foes, and at one point Bucky had to battle away Tony's spoon with his own while simultaneously fending off Harley's waffle cone offence on his other side.

It was fun. It was surprisingly easy. Steve and Sam would have been proud of him, Bucky thought.

They'd been trying for a long time to nudge Bucky into getting out more, be more sociable outside of their little group. He'd been shutting himself away after he came back, he knew, but at the time he'd had neither the energy nor the drive to care at all for anyone other than those closest to him — and even that had been a challenge at times. He'd spent most of his time trying to get used to civilian life, going to therapy, building routines and familiarizing himself with his brand new robotic arm. 

Once he'd fallen into the rhythm and habits of his new life, he became reluctant to introduce something new, scared of upsetting the balance he'd created for himself. Hell, he'd even put off meeting Steve's new girl, the one he had to thank for ending his friend's long streak of heartbreak. Jesus, he couldn't even remember her name. Bucky had been such a shit friend.

He looked over at Tony, who was in the process of bribing his son with his own ice cream to make him give up on Bucky's, and he looked at Harley, who was negotiating a deal that would make any lawyer proud.

He looked at them and thought to himself, _'I want these guys to be part of my life.'_

It was time to make a change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, their happy beginning! 
> 
> I've got more ideas for this 'verse, but if I'm going to write more, it'll likely be short scenes from their time together from now on, rather than one big continuous story. They might be in order, they might not (I have the most delightful idea for a proposal scene, but I still have no idea how their first kiss will go), so I was wondering: Should I post them all as stand-alones in a series, or should I have them all as chapters in the same story? What do you guys think?
> 
> Edit: It seems that most people prefer stand-alone stories, so that's what I'll do.


End file.
